


Healing the Stars

by brotherskywalker, shadowssuitme



Series: Riftverse [2]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst, Brother/Sister Incest, Doppelganger, F/M, Force Visions, Incest, Parallel Universes, Pregnancy, Rift, Sibling Incest, The Force Ships It, Twincest, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brotherskywalker/pseuds/brotherskywalker, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowssuitme/pseuds/shadowssuitme
Summary: As Luke attempts to construct a new Jedi academy on his own he is interrupted by constant visions that start to feel too real. When Leia comes to help him make sense of the visions, she too is swept along in their pull and together the twins uncover a rift that threatens to utterly unite and possibly destroy them at the same time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of the Riftverse, a loosely connected collection of stories.

“Thank you for coming,” Luke says as soon as Leia steps off the small transport ship. He gives her a quick hug and a warm smile, his eyes lingering on her face. “It's been too long.”

“I agree,” Leia replies, studying him in return. “Luke, what's wrong?”

She's seen right through him, as Luke feared she might. He shakes his head, taking her bag and leading her toward the old Jedi temple he's taken up residence in. “It's nothing....” Off her look, he amends himself. “I'll tell you tonight.” He glances up the ramp behind her. “You came alone? Where's Han?”

Leia tenses up. “We had a fight. I’m sure you’re shocked,” she finishes dryly.

“Again?” He looks at her sympathetically. “I'm sorry. I hope it wasn't due to me asking you to come on such short notice.”

“No... but he doesn’t like that, either. Honestly, I don’t really remember what it was about.” She sighs. They’d already been fighting—they’re _always_ fighting about _something_—and then the call from Luke came in, and as Leia was getting ready to leave Han had accused her of always being at Luke’s beck and call and that had only pushed her harder to leave. “He could use a few days to cool off. Are you all right?” she asks as they walk, touching his arm, concerned. “Tell me what happened.”

“I didn't mean to worry you or cause any trouble.” He knows that and she knows that, but it feels like it needs to be said anyway. It's hardly Han and Leia's first fight, and Luke knows they both tend to do better when they have long periods of time between seeing each other—but he doesn’t want to be the source of exacerbating the problem. 

He leads her inside the temple, which he's spent months cleaning and preparing for the arrival of future students, but which still manages to smell musky and old and wet. They come to a dry inner chamber, neatly lit, and decorated with low couches and warm rugs. He sets her bag down. “It's honestly frustrating that I need a reason to see you. You're my sister. It shouldn't take something bad happening to get you to come visit me.”

That just makes Leia want to rush into his arms and squeeze him, but she holds back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.... I’ll come more often. I promise.” She almost takes his hands but thinks better of it, and they sit on one of the couches together, pressed close. “But you know, I do like to be invited.”

“And I like to be asked.” It's not an accusation. It's both of them, and both of them wanting to see each other and not pushing for it. He knows why he sometimes avoids it; to his shame it can be awkward being alone with Leia, even after all these years. If Leia can pick up on that, he thinks that might explain why she keeps her own distance. “There's not much here yet to see anyway... but this place... it's strong with the Force. There's a reason they built a temple here originally. Can you feel it at all?”

She thinks she can, and she nods. “The... air feels... brighter,” she says with a laugh. “I don’t have the vocabulary.” 

He nods. “Bright is a good word.” He takes a deep breath, settling himself. “I've been having... dreams… since I arrived here. Strange dreams. Some stranger than others.” His lifts his distant gaze to fix on her. “Visions, maybe. Is... is everything all right? With you, I mean? Back on Coruscant?” 

Leia crosses her arms over her chest. “Damn you and your clairvoyance,” she murmurs. “No. It’s not. Han... moved out. He was in the middle of getting the last of his things when you called. Is that what you were dreaming about?”

Luke's brow furrows. It's terrible news, but it wasn't what he saw. “I'm so sorry to hear that, Leia... I... but... no, the dream was different. Much worse.” He loves Leia, and Han, and knowing they're having relationship problems is certainly something to be worried about, but it's not the kind of thing that would wake him in a cold sweat and make him call her in the middle of the night. “Perhaps... I just picked up on your feelings and translated it into... something worse.”

This time she does reach for him, taking his left hand and squeezing it. “Tell me what you saw.”

Luke shakes his head at first, but he knows he didn't ask her to come visit just to not tell her. What if it had been a warning? “You were dying,” he simply says. “And nothing I did could stop it.”

A momentary jolt of fear shoots through Leia, but she knows she’s healthy, and she shakes her head. “Luke, it was just a dream....”

“I hope so... but, it didn't feel like a dream.” He squeezes her hand in his, relived in a ridiculous way to feel her warmth; her solidness. It hadn't, at least, been a vision of the present. “You told me once that you felt my presence... on Bespin, the time I lost my hand. Tell me again. How did it feel when I called to you? Can you remember?”

Leia frowns, furrowing her brow, but she nods. “It felt... like you were behind me, whispering my name... but at the same time....” She shakes her head, trying to find the words. “At the same time I knew where you really were. I knew you were calling me from far away. And it also felt like... like I was wrapped in you. You were holding me. That’s how strong your presence was.” She looks at him closely, her gaze softening. “I wasn’t calling you last night, Luke. I’m fine. I’m here.”

Luke nods, but he's still wound up, still feeling the effects of the dream-vision. "You'll stay a couple days with me, won't you? There's not much to do here, but I thought... if they are somehow visions... you're the only other Force user I know. Maybe you'd have a dream, too, or could help me somehow understand the ones I've been seeing."

Leia’s heart aches for Luke. Clearly, whatever he’s felt or seen has shaken him. Anyway, she’s not anxious to go back to an empty apartment on Coruscant. “Of course I’ll stay,” she says gently.

He has a room ready for guests, a room that will someday house a prospective student or their parents, near his own. It’s a room becoming of a Jedi, decorated sparingly in natural materials and muted colors, with a large picture window showing a breathtaking misty forested mountain view. Leia notices the disquiet in all his movements, all his words. Having her here has not reassured him.

After Leia gets some rest, they meet again for a modest dinner, and Leia says, “Maybe it’s this place. Maybe you’re sensing the loss of the old Jedi, superimposed upon images you’re used to.” She doesn’t want to say so, but she also wonders if the stress of putting the new temple together—or resurrecting the old temple—hasn’t been too much for Luke, especially all alone. He looks exhausted.  
“It's possible,” Luke confesses. “There's so much I don't know about the Jedi. If anyone Force sensitive is going to be met with terrible vision-dreams, though...” He sighs, contemplating. “Perhaps it would be better for me to build somewhere else.” He's already put in hundreds of hours restoring the temple, as well as a long legal battle with the New Republic to even let him use the old temple as the base for his new school―especially since he had no prospective students yet. Still, if it's uninhabitable, it's uninhabitable. “It's too early to abandon things here just yet. I have to see this through. These visions... I hate to make you see them, too... but if you do, at least then I'll know... it's not just me.” He smiles at her sadly. “I need to know if they mean something, or not. Then I can decide how to move forward.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” she promises. Taking care of Luke comes instinctively to Leia, and she knows he feels the same about her. “Wake me up if you see anything tonight. I’ll do the same.”  
\--

That night, Leia receives word that Luke’s died in a dogfight, his X-wing canopy shattering into splinters of transparasteel, exposing him to the unforgiving vacuum of space. Artoo—lost as well—could be of no help, and, while Luke could have lived in even the cold of space for ten times as long as a non-Jedi, the rescue ship was still too late for even him.

Leia feels her soul dying with him when she senses his death. The wind is knocked out of her and she lies stunned on the ground. By the time Han finds her, she’s sobbing uncontrollably. “I can’t. I can’t,” she insists over and over. She can’t live without him. Quite literally. She finds herself unable to speak in complete thoughts, barely able to stand. She starts to wonder if she’s even capable of breathing anymore.

It’s sobbing, hyperventilating, that she wakes up in the quiet, empty temple. Drawn urgently to Luke’s magnetic presence, she runs to his nearby room, crawling into bed with him to cling to him.

As she wakes up little by little, she becomes aware of how unreasonable her actions are. It was a dream.

Luke's only half asleep when he feels her, tossing and turning from his own visions, which are further fueled by Leia's distraught. He hasn't slept well in months, often going into meditation trances instead of sleep, and he comes alert almost immediately when he feels Leia's distant, dying presence suddenly alive and visceral and real in his arms.

“Leia!” he gasps, half asleep, but comes to holding her, feeling her arms and body, reassuring himself that she's warm and alive, uninjured. He turns the lights on and pulls back just enough to see her face, the terror in her eyes, but also the life in them. It was another dream. 

She's fine. She's safe.

“Luke,” Leia gasps, half a sob, half an astonished laugh. “Luke, oh, Luke....” She swallows, desperately trying to catch her breath. “Luke, you died, and I wasn’t there but I _felt_ it. I felt and I was too far away and there was nothing I could do. I thought the pain would kill me too.” Her fingers dig into his thin sleep shirt, and she fights to control her breathing, and fails.

“I'm here. I've got you. I'm all right.” He holds her tightly, rocking her slightly, one hand soothing her back. He can feel her heart pounding through her chest, and tries to use the Force to calm her. “It was a dream,” he echoes. “It was just a dream.”

She's seen a vision too, though. A vision, or a dream, or a prophecy? Is it the future they're dreaming? What Luke's seen makes that unlikely, and yet... “Look at me.” He pulls back, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Take a deep breath.” She does, in time with him, and after a minute of breathing together, he senses her regaining her composure. “It's not just me, then. There's something about this place... It was dream, but it was more than a dream, wasn't it? Tell me about it. Was it the future?”

“No,” Leia whimpers, finally really aware of her surroundings, convinced Luke is not dead but in her arms, and yet still shaken to her core about what she’d experienced. “Not the future. It’s now. It’s as if... a different you died, and a different me felt it, and for a few minutes....” Leia shakes her head. “For a few minutes I felt it with her.”

Luke nods, stroking her hair, still doing his best to sooth her. “That's how it was for me, too... so real. _So_ real.” She must understand why he called in such a panic; needed her to come to him right away. “There's something about this place... something that draws out these visions...”

“Don’t ever die,” Leia begs, nuzzling into Luke’s chest. She doesn’t think they’ve ever cuddled this fervently before, and she finds she doesn’t have any concern, at the moment, for whether it’s appropriate. “I couldn’t bear it....” 

“I'm not sure that's a promise I can keep,” Luke apologetically says, “but it's certainly not on the agenda for any time soon.” It's not dawn yet, but he knows neither of them are going to get anymore sleep tonight. “C'mon, let's get some breakfast.”

Once they're out of bed and Luke's turned on enough lights to chase away the shadows of the night, he starts preparing a simple breakfast from some of the local produce he's been growing. “Have you been keeping up with those Jedi meditation techniques I taught you?”

Leia smiles wryly. “Not as much as I know you’d like,” she admits. “But some.” She sighs, holding a large, warm mug of caf for the sense of stability it gives her, but not drinking it. “I feel like that vision was forced upon me, Luke. I wasn’t meditating. I was asleep. It demanded me to experience it....”

Luke nods, soon setting before her a plate of fresh scrambled eggs and fruit. “That's exactly how it is has been for me. Almost every night. It's not always the same thing. It's not always you. It's not always bad, either... but it's always something... not real, that feels real.” He takes a few thoughtful bites of his food. “I'd like,” he says, after a moment of contemplation, “to try some meditation with you, if you're willing. An attempt to find the source of the visions... to try and control them while we're awake.” He fixes his gaze on her. “I can't promise you won't see another terrible thing.”

Leia licks her lips, then shivers. “I want to help,” she says at last. “If I can. I can’t believe you had to be alone after dreaming about me....”

Luke has to laugh softly, a little embarrassed at finding humor in the situation. “Dreaming about you isn't always so bad,” he says with one of his more boyish grins; the kind he used to wear a lot six or seven years ago. “I just ask that you not die in them.”

He’s so cute when he smiles like that, and Leia can’t look away for a moment. “What else have you seen?”

His gaze lingers on hers for a moment too long before looking away. “Han, sometimes. You got married in one... and I only knew it was a dream because I saw myself there, too, watching. Vader is alive still, in some of them. He survived somehow. Often the Empire remains in power, and we're still running...” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, frightened from what I've seen, but can't remember it. By morning, the wisps of the visions are gone.” He finishes his breakfast. “The sun should be rising soon... if you're up for it, I'd like to try joint meditation now...”

Maybe she can embody his compassion when she’s around him, because she is feeling unusually gentle and accommodating this morning, in his presence. “If that’s what you think, then that’s what we’ll do,” she says, her hand softly covering his.

Luke almost jerks his hand away at the touch. Despite having embraced in his bed only hours ago, in the stark light of day, with the visions gone, it's almost too much so soon after the panic of losing her in the dream, and all of the associated feelings that brought him. He wants to turn his hand over and hold hers back, and he wants to pull away completely. What felt safe while the tails of the dream were still wrapped around them seems wholly inappropriate now, clearheaded and awake. “I don't know what we might see. It may be uncomfortable, or frightening, or horrific. We just have to remember it's not real. They're only visions, and we're trying to find the source of them.”

Leia nods. They clear up from breakfast, then Luke leads her to the newly-renovated meditation room—it smells like clean fresh pinewood and candles, and the morning sun filtering gently through the dimmed windows only contributes to the bright and comfortable atmosphere. Leia has trouble imagining anything bad happening here.

They sit on soft meditation pillows, facing one another, and Leia takes Luke’s hand again. “I’m here,” she says.

“I'm here,” he replies, as if it's some kind of call and answer, but it's just them, being together, reassuring each other.

He closes his eyes, drawing her essence to him in the Force. He has experimented a few times on his own in this way, and so leads her along the path he's found. It doesn't take long for the visions to find them―almost as though they've been waiting. They don't stumble across them, or open them, but they are awash in them. The visions flood them, inundating, heavy, demanding to be experienced.

_Luke and Leia, standing hand-in-hand on a cliff before an immense jungle, staring at each other while Artoo trills behind them. Luke and Leia, running together down a marble corridor in a palace he knows, through Leia, was once on Alderaan. Luke and Leia, standing on a ship that is shuddering with the impact of Imperial fire, clutching each other's hands as they wait for the inevitable end. _

_Leia sees the same visions, and they come in flashes, only moments long, and yet she and Luke are together in each of them. One is perhaps the past of their real, waking lives―standing together, Luke holding her, while the Falcon flies off, Lando and Chewie aboard, to start the search for Han. His strong arms are keeping her anchored. In the next, Luke picks her up, both of them fully clothed, and steps into a sunken pool in a garden, with Leia giggling joyously. The water from this vision fades into cooler water, and the two of them are swimming naked in a lake with a toddler, who is gleefully shouting “Mama-mama!” at Leia, and she and Luke are so happy and proud of him._

_They're standing on a stage, before a cheering audience, an old woman praising them in a strange language. They're in an opulent white stateroom with windows looking out into the forest, Luke in stark black and Leia in goassmer, sheer white, drawing him intimately to her. They're on a rock in the forest, a black starry sky above a canopy of trees, and they're clinging together, lips locked in a desperate embrace, hands hungrily pulling clothes open. _

_An apartment on Coruscant―Luke’s helping her change into a simple shift nightgown, and she’s in unbearable pain. He kisses her and asks if she’s ready to be a mother. A farm, somewhere idyllic and pastoral, and Luke’s telling her stories, making her laugh, as they walk in a field of grain. Lying in bed with Luke, her head on his chest as she listens to his heart beat with the same rhythm as hers._

_A house full of children, ten or more, of all ages, with Leia's eyes and Luke's smile, laughing and playing, and Luke and Leia with their feet in the soil, kissing in the sunlight with Luke's hands on her big, rounded belly. An illuminated club with colored lights, and an audience watching as Luke makes love to Leia, deep and hard, with pure adoring intensity, and matching, glowing bands on their arm such a brilliant white it makes Luke gasp, as if he feels the sensations too._

_More intimacies follow, in dozens of permutations, positions and locations―young and fresh-faced teenagers sharing their first time on the floor of a high tower; Leia pregnant on the shores of a misty lake as she rides a Luke who's sporting a beard he's never grown; the pair old and wizened, broken and lost but still desperately in love, sparking with passion as they pleasure each other in a small rundown apartment sharing a much-too-small bed. _

_The visions flood them, visceral and real, overwhelming and growing more and more passionate. It's so much all at once Luke can't focus; can't find the source of the visions, or the meaning or the purpose. He can't stop them from flooding over them, flashing faster and faster as if building to an orgasm and when it comes the vision goes bright white, and they see each other, seated on meditation cushions in a sun-soaked room in a newly restored Jedi temple, holding hands. In the vision, Luke opens his eyes, meeting Leia's—_

And it's over. 

Luke finds himself back in himself, out of breath, his heart pounding, his body responding to the images it'd seen. Whatever he had expected they would see, that was not it.

As when they’d been dreaming, completely unable to distinguish between the visions and reality, Leia’s visceral response takes over most of her awareness. Her body is warm and flushed, aroused, throbbing to be touched. Luke is before her, in much the same state, his hand in hers. Her hand starts to touch his more intimately, her nails drawing slow trails up his arm, and she leans over, kissing him not only with passion and intensity, but with the familiarity of a long and happy relationship, as if she has done nothing but kiss Luke her entire life.

The edges of reality blend together; a million Lukes kissing a million Leias and only for one set of them is it the first time. No, not the first time; they've kissed before, but never like this, with the confidence and certainty of what they want, knowing the other wants the same. Never with the truth of their birth right stretching out before and behind them, and forgotten, trampled, unimportant.

Luke's hands encircle her waist, pulling her closer, onto his lap, to straddle him as he kisses her in return, deeper. Her skin burns through her clothes, and his fingers press into the flesh, aching to touch more. He's never wanted anything more in his life, although he feels he already intimately knows every last inch of her. 

Urgently, Leia’s hands search inside his Jedi robes for a way to his skin. She begins again in frustration, needing to touch him, starting with the belt and sash that hold them together. Once those are aside, it’s easier to unwrap him as she kisses down his neck and exposed chest.

Luke groans, his sister's mouth on his skin getting him hard instantly. His own fingers fumble too, a burning need to be inside her boiling up from within. It feels as if he'll never be able to think clearly again until they're connected, joined, made whole and one. Again. “Leia,” he gasps, pawing at her dress, buttons popping off as he pulls it apart. He needs his skin against hers and nothing is going to stop him. “Leia, _please_,” he groans, and with a needful, aching stretch, he rips her gown open, her breasts spilling out. Immediately his mouth goes to them, kissing and worshiping. His lips find a nipple and latch on to the modest, hardened bud with a technique he's learned from a dozen visions merged into his mind.

Leia whimpers and cries out when his mouth starts pulling on her as if trying to drink from her body. Her cunt and hips respond immediately on reflex, and she starts pulling Luke’s pants out of her way so she can straddle him, begging him with small wordless sounds of insistent need.

His groan echoes through both of them. He pulls off the tattered halves of her dress and lifts his hips, positioning her, breaking the seal on her breast to kiss her mouth again. “I need you,” he growls, but he knows it's not necessary; the fire burning in her is at least as hot as his. He guides his cock between her legs, and when he feels her eager wetness he almost erupts right there.

Gasping as he touches her, Leia presses her hips closer to his, capturing his body inside of hers, and it’s so familiar and wonderful. She feels completed as she never has except when he’s inside her, which she remembers with the memories of ten thousand other Leias. Her body moves against his.

Luke digs loving bruises into Leia's hips as they connect, pulling her down hard and fast, making the connection complete. He can't believe how hot it is, how good it feels, how _right_. He's done it a million times, and yet he knows this is their first time, and it's all the more special because of it. They've denied themselves this union for so many years, and they've both needed so bad; been so lost and incomplete. “Leia,” he rasps again, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization to best stimulate each other. “Oh, Leia... I didn't know... I didn't know.” He clings to her as they make love, needing more depth, more connection, more intensity. Everything inside him is building to a release decades in the making.

He has her on her back now, pressing her into a disorganized mess of meditation pillows, and his possessive and demanding thrusts keep her anchored there and send wave after wave of familiar pleasure through Leia. Right before they reach their mutual climax, she pulls him towards her, and they kiss again, celebrating finally finding each other again, and for the first time, and at last.

He releases inside her, as deep against her cervix as he can, the way he somehow knows from the actions of ten thousand other versions of themselves they both love and need it. He stares into her eyes as he does, filling her with his seed, and groans out his pleasure as she eagerly works her hips to draw every last drop of him into her. Around them, the dim meditation room glows golden with a mist that's not just sunlight reflecting off motes of dust in the air. The tapestries on the wall billow in a breeze they create. He feels so connected in that moment, so whole and completed. He can see clearly for the first time in his life; breathe properly; taste intensely. He feels, in some ways, he wasn't alive until this very moment, soaking inside of Leia's still pulsing, warm body. It's too much intensity to speak, almost too much to even breathe. He never ever wants it to end.

Leia clings tight to him, basking in how wonderful, how right it feels, feeling alive and awake in a way she never has before, nuzzling him, kissing him as his body remains inside hers in the afterglow.

It takes quite some time but then, suddenly, it hits her.

“Luke—!” Leia gasps, pulling back a little, looking at him in shock.

He feels the moment the connection to the vision fades. The feelings are still there, the memories, but they're disappearing, fleeting away like mist. All that remains is Luke pinning his sister to the floor, his cock buried deep inside her. 

“Leia!” he echoes, just as shocked and startled. Not for a second did he lose track of himself, or what they were doing, but in the moment he felt possessed, as if controlled by the other Lukes. Now, he's just himself again. Celibate, lonely Luke, living a hermit life in a defunct Jedi temple in order to properly distance himself from his sister and the complicated feelings he has for her. He starts to pull out, disbelief and horror washing over him, and deep, deep longing for something he has in that precious moment and is about to forever lose.

"Luke," she whispers again, feeling his pain and longing, recognizing it as the same pain and longing she feels for him, but not knowing what to do but let him pull out. She gathers her dress around her, but he's broken its delicate buttons and torn some of the silk, and all she can do is hold it closed over the body that she so eagerly gave to him. "What was that?" she breathes. 

Luke is trembling, and has to take a deep breath to steady his hand. He pulls his trousers back on and drapes his robe over Leia, to help her modesty. Being apart from her is physically making him weaker, or perhaps it's just the darkness closing in. “It was real,” he says, without realizing it. “What it was... a vision or a memory... other versions of... of _us_... other lifetimes...” His eyes search the middle-distance, looking for answers, and finding none he returns to her face and is drawn in once more by her beauty, her softness, her strength. There are tears of joy drying on her cheeks, leaked out during the moment of climax, and he wants nothing more than to lean close and kiss them away.

Leia shivers, her skin cold without his touch. “It was real,” she echoes, nodding. She feels dazed, as if waking up from a trance, and he looks at least as shaken as she is. Beautiful, though. She’d always known he was beautiful, but it’s been years since she thought about it this way. “Did you know that would happen?” she asks. “Had you seen those things... before?”

“No,” he breathes, quickly, fear suddenly trickling into the warmth they'd created together. The fear that she might think he had done it to have his way with her. “I'd never seen anything... not like that. I was always alone before. Visions of me, but only me...” He refocuses on her. “It must have been because we were together, this time. The visions somehow...” He has to look away from her. It's too much to stare at her and not have her. They just made love and he's sitting there, talking about it. “Leia, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that... that any of that would happen. Are... are you all right?” He was rough, he realizes. He knows she liked it, but he was still rough. He destroyed her dress. There's no way he can ever take any of that back. “I didn't mean for any of this to happen...”

But there's no anger between them, despite his fear. No rage or fury. Perhaps the calm is still hanging over them; the peace of a thousand permutations of them that knew what they needed and enjoyed it. Luke's nerves are on end, and the fear is real, but there's no anger. As wrong as it was, it brought too much peace and light into his heart for him to harbor any anger, and he thinks, perhaps, Leia feels the same.

There’s a big part of Leia that feels threatened and used, the part of her that thinks Luke must have seen this before, and known he could fuck her if she saw it, too.

But Leia knows that isn’t true. Not only because it doesn’t feel true, but also because Luke is too good and pure. And, moreover, Luke loves her too much to ever let anything hurt her, even he himself.

It’s almost like the entire episode was involuntary.

Almost, because it had also felt extremely enthusiastic, on both of their parts.

“There wasn’t a single vision,” Leia begins softy, “That wasn’t... _happy_....”

Luke nods, but he can't look at her. It's too much to process. If only he had someone else he could talk to about it—someone who had experience with these sort of things. Someone who could tell him why he'd seen a thousand different versions of himself and Leia in love, _together_, and why they were all such happy visions. 

“A welcome change to the nightmare, at least,” he starts. He glances at her again, disheveled and beautiful. “We should... we should clean up. I need time to think about this...” His eyes are soft, full of concern. “Are you... are you really okay?”

She almost says no, because she isn't. But she knows she will be, and it's no use worrying him. He hadn't made her do anything she didn't want to do—far from it, and she had started undressing him first. "I'm fine," she says. She doesn't sound convincing. "Will you get me some water?" she adds softly, wrapping the robe more tightly around her.

Luke knows she isn't fine. He isn't fine. He's shaken to his core. His life has been derailed. He'll possibly never recover from what just happened... but he'll live. They'll both live. “Of course.” He stiffly gets to his feet, glad of the excuse to slip out for a moment. He washes his face, puts on fresh robes, and returns to Leia a few minutes later with water. He does his best not to touch her when he hands it to her, but one of her braids has tumbled out of its tightly wrapped bun, and he aches to pick it up and put it back into place. “Do you need help standing up?”

She shakes her head and sips the water. "I'm not hurt," she says, and she isn't, but he knows that. "Are _you_ okay?" she asks.

“Shaken, but all right... Confused. I wish I had someone to talk to... Master Yoda, or Obi-Wan...” He's not sure even they'd have any advice. “I wish I knew if there was something about this place that caused the visions, or if it's me... or us? If it... if it means something. If Master Yoda were here, would we see him?” He's reminded of the cave he entered on Dagobah, where he saw a vision of Vader that turned into himself. It's a very different sort of vision, but it's the only potential context he has.

Leia doesn't answer for a long moment. After she finishes the water, they're still awkwardly, silently avoiding each other's gaze, and she says, at last, "Maybe I do need help up," and reaches her hand for Luke's. "Do you mind if I... go be alone, for a while?"

“Of course not... I was thinking we both...” He doesn't finish the sentence, as taking her hand and helping her up draws all his thoughts to the contact between them, and the way he wants to touch her waist with his other hand to help steady her, and how he can't―or won't let himself. “Take all the time you need.”


	2. Chapter 2

Luke makes lunch a few hours later, and when Leia doesn't surface for it, he leaves a tray for her by her door, quietly saying he's going for a walk and will be back in a few hours. It's good for him to get out of the temple, and he wants her to feel free to walk around the facility without fear of running into him. 

On his outing he takes his time, checking his farm, his animals, tending to duties around the temple. When he returns, hours later, he brings fresh produce as well as fish and eggs. He puts everything away, and before starting dinner, finally goes to check on Leia just to make sure she's all right, though the Force tells him she is.

Some of her lunch has been eaten, but not even half, and the plate left on the tray outside the door. She rises to answer when Luke knocks softly, but she had felt him coming easily twenty minutes before he did.

She's showered and restyled her hair, and now it falls down her back in one big braid, so it can't easily be disturbed again. She's thrown the torn dress out--it probably could have been fixed, but she didn't want look at it anymore. She now wears a plain black dress, severe and practical. "Hi," she says softly.

Gone is the make-up, the softness, the color in her cheeks. She's almost cold, and yet Luke finds she's still capable of taking his breath away. “I was about to make dinner, if you wanted to help. We could... we could talk about it, if you're able. I think we should... But there’s no pressure, if you’d rather not.”

Leia considers carefully, but she has a lot to say, and she wants to hear his side of it, too, so she nods and follows him into the kitchen.

Luke’s set up vegetables on the counter that need to be washed and peeled and diced, and he nods at them to indicate Leia should start. It's busy work, and good for them both to focus on something. He starts on cleaning the fish. They're side-by-side while they work, but having something to do with his eyes and hands helps him not feel quite so awkward. “I just... want to say I'm sorry, again. If I had known anything like that might have happened I never... never would have...”

“I know.” Leia’s voice is terse, but she really does know; really does understand. “For a minute I.... But I know you didn’t know. When we were apart, we only saw pain, loss....” She sighs, emphatically chopping some tubers. “I started it, anyway. I undressed you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No. You're only here because of me... and I was only moments away from undressing you. We both... Anyway.” He swallows his pride, his shame and, eyes firmly fixed on the fish he's filleting, he says, “The truth is... I've had inappropriate thoughts about you. Not recently. Not commonly... but. It has happened. It must be my psyche that... that drew that out, somehow. It's my fault the Force, or whatever, made that connection between us.” It doesn't explain everything―or anything really―but hearing Leia apologize is more than he can bear.

Leia’s not shocked, not surprised. “You think about me that way?” she asks, her tone conveying curiosity and nothing more.

Luke burns with shame and embarrassment. “Not often,” he says. “Not anymore.” He glances at her, but her face is in profile as she cuts the vegetables. “Sometimes I have dreams. Nothing like the visions, just...” he trails off.

“Oh, you mean.... Well, before we knew I thought that way about you, too, you know. There was a time....” She shakes her head, sighing. “But that was long ago,” she adds, as if that puts an end to it.

Luke’s had more than a few thoughts and dreams about her since then, but he thinks it's better not to clarify. It doesn't add anything. “Perhaps that's why it happened... latent feelings from long ago...” He glances at her again, feeling foolish. “It was... I know it was a horrible thing to do, but...” He can't find a word to adequately explain how wonderful and right it felt without sounding inappropriate. He tries again. “It wasn't bad. It was loving.”

There’s a sudden clatter as Leia drops the knife, but it only falls a few centimeters to the cutting board. She picks it up, retaining her composure. “It was... yes,” she agrees, her body stiff and her voice a little hoarse. “Neither of us _did_ anything wrong, but it was still wrong.” She chops the rest of the vegetables in silence, then says, “Maybe if we’d done it when we were younger, when we’d wanted to, it wouldn’t have happened now.”

“Maybe,” Luke says, feeling that perhaps he's said too much. It's still too soon; too raw. “Hopefully it's out of our systems now. It wasn't wrong. We weren't in control... but we can't let it happen again.”

“Absolutely not,” Leia agrees. She keeps thinking about the visions, though. Passionately riding Luke’s cock on the shore of a lake, her swollen body joyously pregnant....

She pushes it out of her head, hoping he didn’t see it.  
Luke does his best not to be hurt by how quickly she agreed; how final she sounded. It's for the best. There's no other path they can take, and yet... Some part of him wishes she'd at least said, “I wish we could, but you're right.” Perhaps it was only so good for him. Perhaps it was nightmarish for her...

He finishes his fish, and starts cooking, adding the vegetables to a stir fry when she's done. It's nothing fancy, but it's tasty and fresh, and they do their best to not talk about what happened again. When they've finished eating, and the dishes are washed and the sun has set and the cool night is making him feel awkward, Luke says, “I'm going to turn in early... I'll apologize in advance if you have another bad dream.”

That’s what she gets if she wakes up knowing he’s dead. An apology. When she knows what she’ll really want is his arms around her. “If you wake up, and you’re worried about me―just touch me with the Force. I’ll be close by.” She wants to touch him, but she can’t, so she just looks at him with soft eyes.

“I will. The same for you.” He wants her to feel she can come to him again, like she did the first night, but he knows now that they've crossed a line and it will never be the same again. It can never be the same again, and that makes his heart ache more for her than it ever has. “Good night, Leia.”

Sometimes, before, they might have hugged or squeezed hands or even kissed the other’s cheek or forehead. Not now, though. There’s no touch. He just leaves. And Leia’s left feeling empty and restless.

She goes to bed, but it’s early. She has no contact from Han, which is hardly a surprise, as they’ve not been speaking; Threepio has forwarded her some work messages, but she can’t focus on them; she tries to read for both pleasure and self-education, but she never gets past the first paragraph. Music doesn’t fare much better―she turns off each recording half-way through the first movement. Eventually, she falls into a troubled, light sleep, and her body aches, feeling sundered and empty.

Luke meditates for three hours, reflecting on what's happened in the last two days, trying to understand why they're experiencing the visions, and why the one manifested the way it did. He tries to meditate away the lingering feelings it's left in him; the desire for Leia; the ache of having her and knowing he can never have her again. He tries to talk to the old masters, to contact them for help or guidance, but as always, he finds himself alone and the voices in the Force remain silent.

Only once he senses Leia asleep does he allow himself to change and go to bed, quietly locking his door when he does. If there is another nightmare, or, worse, a reoccurrence of the vision from this morning, he wants to keep them both safe.

It starts more slowly this time.

Luke is in a big house by the sea, with floors made of ancient, lovingly worn wood, and he's looking for Leia. He senses her upstairs, and he goes in search. They're in a starship on the way to some unknown and Leia's in the co-pilot seat, looking at him with desire in her eyes. They're in the water, a million stars glittering overhead, and Leia's hair spills down her back in a cascade as she pulls him up against her body. They're kissing, pulling each other closer, fingers peeling off clothes, and the fire running through Luke's veins pushes him out of bed, until he's furiously pawing at the locked door in an almost drunken stupor.

He gasps when he finally gets it open and the dark hallway reveals Leia standing right there in just a nightgown, the look her in her eyes echoing the needful hunger in his own. “Leia,” he breathes, relieved and terrified all at once.

The word 'Luke' is on Leia’s lips almost before he even speaks, and then she takes a step forward, hesitant, as if she’s trying to go to him, but some invisible chain is keeping her, just barely, at bay. “There was a house with wooden floors, and you... and the sea....” And then the chain gives way, and she’s in his arms, pressing her body against his, feeling their mutual desire burning in both of their centers, feeling as though, if she doesn’t have him now, she may wither up and die. She tries, again, to hold back, but helpless to her need, she lifts her face to brush her lips against his.

Luke kisses her back, soft but intensely, sighing into the relief of it. He pulls her into the room even as she pushes him, and they tumble onto his bed. It's not demanding like earlier; not quite as full of blind need, but there are still ten thousand Lukes in his head guiding him, showing him what to do; how to touch and be touched by her. His fingers find the thick corded braid she's gone to bed with and he untangles it, combing his fingers through her hair until it's all loose, spilling down her back.

“I need you,” he breathes, kissing her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, her skin, tasting her. “All of me needs all of you.” His hands go to her hips, feeling the heat burning beneath her gown, and they start to undress each other. He doesn't rip her clothes this time; they have practiced fingers that know how to do it. They've done this a million times.

Where before their hands were rough and fumbling, now they are soft and so aware. Leia knows every spot that he wants touched, how much he wants it to tickle or hurt, how long he wants it to last. She knows he wants to run his fingers through her hair and hold her down so hard he leaves small bruises, and he wants her to scratch him, to moan loud and helplessly, to call him Daddy and to even whisper to him to fuck his sister. She's never known these things before but she knows now, and she doesn't stop to over think any of it. She rides him; he sucks on her breasts; she bites his neck. She whispers to him to come for Mommy, and he covers her flat belly with his hand.

When he releases, as deep inside her as she can take him, he whispers, “Open,” because he knows it'll make her come again, right after the first orgasm, and she does, shuddering against him, wrapping her legs around his middle, holding him close. He rocks as he finishes, as her tight body eagerly milks him dry, and he bites her neck and whispers things in her ear he never knew she needed to hear, about impregnation, and fate, and how deeply they belong together, like this.

The room is once again filled with golden mist. The walls tremble with the intensity of their shared orgasm. They hold each other, unable to let go, and even when they're spent, Luke just rolls them on their side, keeping them locked together, buried still deep inside her, and hikes her leg up over his thigh so he doesn't slip out. “I love you,” he murmurs, over and over, feeling the magic beginning to dissipate. 

Leia nods, and the pain of having this and realizing, little by little, that she can’t keep it, is already tearing her up inside, even with his cock still inside of her. “Luke, I love you,” she breathes, holding his face in her hands, their foreheads pressed together. “I love you.”

Luke strokes her face, kissing her tears away. He softly rubs her flat belly, soothing her, using the Force to untangle tendrils of anxiety in a way he never knew how to do before. The result is an easing of their combined fears and nervousnesses, allowing them to drift off to sleep in the peace of completeness, embracing each other close.

In the morning, when they come awake together, Leia’s turned over onto her other side, and she’s pressed into Luke like a spoon, his hand resting on her stomach. She remembers their visions and whispers and intentions from last night, and breathes a sigh of relief, thanking the Force she’s taking precautions against pregnancy. She turns in Luke’s arms, seeing he’s newly awake as she is, and she tenderly whispers a greeting.

Waking up with Leia in his arms is the most peaceful, natural thing in the world for Luke. He hasn't slept through the night in months―not since arriving at the temple―and he feels more rested and content than he ever has before. She fits against him perfectly, beautifully. It's mid-morning and they both slept solidly. “Hi,” he whispers back, and finds he doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to disturb this cocoon of happiness that doesn't belong in the world.

Leia hesitates, but decides that it’s better they just talk about it right away. It will be less heartbreaking that way. “Luke... I love you,” she breathes, and she wonders if he hears the condition in that statement.

There's never been a sentence that filled Luke with so much joy before, so much hope and peace and radiance. “I love you,” he echoes, and sits up slightly, so they're facing each other and he's slightly leaning over her. His hand on her belly moves, stretching, possessive. His body aches for hers again. “I've... I've always loved you...” He feels the edges of reality again, but staring into her welcoming dark eyes keeps it at bay for a little longer. 

She had meant to add 'but' to that statement, but after he returns it, she can't help but just lean in and kiss him, lingering. It goes on moment after wonderful moment, until her body starts to open up for him again, and she pushes him gently away when she realizes. “Luke, I love you, but we can’t do this,” she protests.

Luke's hand has already started moving between her legs, but he stops at her words. His tongue feels suddenly thick and heavy in his mouth. He knows what she's saying. He knows why she's saying it, and yet... and yet... “I know.” His voice cracks and he dips his head, ashamed. The moment he does, his lips brush against her neck and he finds himself kissing her, tasting her, needing her. “Oh, Leia...”

She's already moaning a little, twisting her body to give him a good angle. She's never needed anything so badly as she needs him. “We have to get a hold of ourselves,” she gasps, but makes no attempt to do so. His hand continues again, reaching between her thighs, beginning to stroke her, and she rocks her hips in time with his touch.

Luke’s teeth nip at her neck, suckling her skin and his fingers find her nub with her guidance. He didn’t intend to stroke her, but the way her body moves for him entices him. She needs his touch; he can feel how badly she wants this, and more. “I've got you,” he answers, moving his face up to kiss her mouth. His cock is hard, rubbing against her leg, and within a moment she's got her hands on him, pulling him on top of her. He manages to stop himself just before she pulls him into her body. He's so close he can feel her wetness against his length, but he doesn't push in. He just pants against her ear, unable to pull away, but unable to proceed. “Leia,” he rasps in a voice so husky and low it's practically a growl.

The anticipation is making Leia pulse and throb for him, and she's wetter than she's ever been in her life. “I've got you,” she whispers, angling her hips, inviting him. “I'm here and I want you....

That's all the permission he needs. With his eyes fixed on hers, he sinks into her inviting warmth, and they gasp in beautiful unison as they join, instantly feeling whole and complete again. Luke helps her wrap her legs around his waist and once she does, he begins to make love to her, slow and deep, without visions confusing him. His eyes never break the gaze he has on her. They have to stop. They have to end this. But not yet. Not yet. “I love you,” he gasps again as they connect over and over, each time he thrusts into her sending sparks flying through the room. “I was made for you...”

Her hands grab his hair and she uses his body for leverage to fuck him back as hard and tenderly as he's making love to her. When their climax starts to appear in the horizon of her awareness, she bites his neck hard, claiming him. “You've always been mine,” she growls.

“Always,” Luke gasps back, trembling with the intensity. Their pace increases together, harder, more passionate. The bed rocks as they move, their need rising, the knowledge that this is somehow the last time, making them increasingly more frantic. “Always and forever,” he says as he fills her, burning with love, with need, with completeness. He's hers. He was made for her, to love her like this, always and forever.

And she was made for him, to be loved by him like this, always and forever. It's so radiantly clear that it feels like it's piercing his heart. “Take me into you,” he begs, gasping as he holds off his release. “Take all of me into you. Leia... K-keep me inside you...”

“I will,” she breathes sweetly. “I will, Luke. I'll keep you.” It seems essential that she make the promise, as if she could keep him inside her forever, as if there were a way to stay joined physically with him after she rips herself out of his bed, never to return. “Come for me, my love,” she whispers. “Give me all of you.... Come for me, my brother.”

“Leia,” he croons. “Leia!” He releases inside her, feeling her come as he does, so they're sparking together, moving their bodies in unison, increasing their pleasure, drawing it out longer and longer. He fills her and she rocks her body to keep him inside. He holds her as they come, trembling from not just the intensity but the emotion of it. It's somehow so important that he not let go of her. He doesn't want it to end.

It takes a long time for the spell to release them; eventually, the golden mist settles, and he’s still inside her, and they’re panting and staring at each other, wondering what they’re supposed to do next.

“That was the last time,” Leia says, and though she makes no move to back away from him, her words have an insistent ring of finality.

“I know,” Luke says, ashamed at what they've done--_again_\--and also not yet withdrawing.

When at last he does it's with reluctance, knowing it's the end. It's over. He sits on the edge of the bed, naked beside her, staring at his hands between his knees. He wants to talk about it. Maybe some part of him desperately, foolishly wants to protest the end. The feelings were forced upon them by the visions, but they're real. The feelings between them are real. The love and desire is still there, burning between them. He wants to beg her to try and make it work, but he knows there's no point. They can't.

“I locked my door last night,” he says without looking at her, “and that didn't help.”

She smiles, maybe laughing at him a little, or at both of them, or at the absurdity of making such feeble precautions against a force of nature. “It doesn’t help if you unlock the door yourself,” she says, surprisingly good-natured and familiar.

The smile in her voice makes Luke look back at her, and he's struck again by how much he wants her. Her unbound hair, her bare breasts, the soft curve of her lips. It takes everything in him not to bend over her and start kissing her again. “You were waiting for me.”

She nods solemnly. “For years,” she admits, but then quickly sits up, covering her breasts with the sheet. “But there’s a reason I didn’t do anything about it.”

Luke averts his eyes, feeling ashamed for looking now. He swallows down the hope and confusion in his heart. “Because we're twins.”

She sighs sadly, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know it’s not fair.”

It's difficult not to turn to her and kiss her. So difficult in fact that he can't stop himself. Her hand on his skin is irresistible. "Stay here. With me." He knows she can't--_won’t_\--and yet nothing else makes sense to him anymore. Maybe the visions were a sign. Maybe this is meant to happen.

“I want to say yes,” she says. “But I can’t. And I won’t. You know that. Whatever we’ve been seeing... it’s not really us, Luke. We have to let it go.” She sighs again, kisses him quickly, then starts to find her clothes. Her fingers tremble, and even after she finds them all, she can’t bring herself to put them on. “If I stayed,” she says, “What would we be?”

"Lovers," he answers. "Partners. You could help me teach. Become a Jedi." He feels the same mix of emotions she does. The desire is there and the knowledge they can't. She has to go back to her world and leave him to the celibacy of his. He looks away. It's too difficult to see her like this and not touch her; to know they want the same thing but can't have it.

She scoffs. “Who’s going to send their kid to be taught by twins who fuck each other?” she asks, but there’s an intense edge of sadness to her voice. She finally looks at Luke again, then draws him towards her and kisses him deeply.

Luke gasps, not having expected another kiss after her dismissal, and holds her close. “Then we won't teach,” he says, pressing their foreheads together. “We can... we can go find a house with wooden floors, and a lake... plant a field of something...” It's absurd. Those visions can't be real. They can't be visions of their future together. He's a Jedi. He's the last of the Jedi... and yet, if she agreed...

“No,” Leia says helplessly. “We both have work we need to do--we can’t leave it. And I want to have children, Luke. I can’t do that with you. I can’t.” She kisses him again, then finally pulls her nightgown over her head. “I’m so sorry. I love you. I never should have let any of this.... I didn’t mean to hurt you.” But the tears on her cheeks are her own. “I have to leave.”

“Leia, wait,” he gets up after her, catching her by the wrist, pulling her back. He wants to say they can make it work; he'll find a way. He wants what she wants. They saw it together, the different paths they could have. Together. Her kiss is still burning on his lips, and he knows she's right; she has to leave. She shouldn't have ever come, and he blames himself for all of it. He ends up releasing her arm. She knows what he's going to say, and she's already rejected it. She's already made up her mind. This is way it has to be. “I'm sorry...” It was so good. Maybe it would be better to have never known just how good it could be.

“I’m sorry,” she echoes. They could go back and forth apologizing all day. Instead, Leia tears herself away, standing in her nightgown and bare feet and loose, tangled hair. “Luke... I might... not be in touch for a while. To give us some time. It won’t be because I don’t want to talk to you.”

Luke feels she's standing with half of his heart in her hands--half of his soul--but he doesn't waver. He doesn't bend. “I know,” he replies. “I'll be here.” He swallows hard, but draws strength to him with the Force. “Leia...” He starts, but there's nothing more he can say that she doesn't already know, nothing that won't make it harder for her to leave. “Be safe.”

“Luke....” She nearly goes to him, because their mutual touch seems to rid both of them of all of their mutual pain. But she doesn’t. She’s Leia Organa, and she’s strongest when she has to be strong for someone else. It’s how her parents taught her.

In half an hour she’s showered and dressed and packed up, and her freshly-washed hair, still wet, is twisted into one large, severe bun at the back of her head. Luke doesn’t appear again to say goodbye, and she doesn’t expect him to. But the little astromech droid following her with mournful chirps until she’s out of the gate brings to her mind a vision of standing on a cliff with Luke, promising to love him forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Leia returns home, and the weeks pass too slowly. Nonetheless, by the time Leia figures out what’s happening inside her body, she hasn’t talked to Luke in long enough that telling him isn’t the first thing on her mind. She keeps it to herself.

It’s nearly three months before she returns to the temple. When she does, it’s because she can sense his pain, and she can bear it no longer. Whatever is happening to him there, he needs help fighting it.

For Luke, the visions have not stopped. No longer are they romantic interludes entwined with Leia, but a return to the darkness. To stop his pain, he has thrown himself into tackling the visions, figuring them out, trying to understand the source, and why they're happening... and he has gotten close. It's just more than he can bear. The pain that lashes out is too intense, too raw. Every day he tries to heal the wound he's found, and every day it tears open anew.

He senses Leia's arrival as soon as she breaks atmosphere, and he thinks she's been shielding herself from him for him to not have noticed her arrival sooner. He has no idea what to expect, or how to prepare himself, and she's coming down too fast for him to even go inside and shave before her little shuttle is touching down. He and Artoo stand in the dust as it settles, waiting to see what happens when the loading ramp descends.

Leia’s there, her hair down, dressed in a loose, unbelted tunic and pants. She sees Luke, disheveled, bearded, dark circles under his eyes, and the temple barely any better restored than it was when she’d been here, and her heart falls. He hasn’t been able to progress. Is he depressed? Or are the visions still happening, taking all his energy? “I should have come back sooner!” she gasps, going to him, holding him. “I’m sorry.” 

Leia's more beautiful somehow than Luke has ever seen, and her touch feels like a hundred nights of sleep. “You're really here,” he says, fearful to touch her back, to hug or embrace her. He struggles to hold himself together; to keep from collapsing against her, or pulling her mouth against his. “What's wrong?” There's no other reason she could have come back.

“You,” she answers emphatically. “I could feel all of the pain and confusion. It’s still happening, isn’t it? Luke, I came back to help you.”

It's hard to wrap his head around; he's been so consumed by the visions. “It's getting worse,” he manages, looking into her eyes, and then forces himself to step back. He wants her so badly, and knows he can't. “But I think I’ve figured out why it’s happening. There’s a rift. A tear, of some kind, through the universe itself. We were seeing parallel universes of ourselves, I'm sure of it...” He feels like a crazy person talking about it, and he's sure he sounds like one to her. “One of those universes is the source... It’s so dark. I've been trying to fix it, but it's too much...”

Leia nods, and she thinks she believes him, but he doesn’t seem at all well at the same time. “Let me take care of you,” she says gently, leading him inside. “Have you eaten today? Come on.” She cooks for them both and makes him eat; she draws him a warm bath and does his laundry while he washes and soaks. When he gets back to his room, all his clothes are hanging freshly-washed in his closet, and new sheets are on his bed. “You should have told me it was so bad,” Leia says, feeling guilty for not reaching out sooner. “I would have come back.”

Luke doesn't say anything, but he feels better having washed and shaved and put on clean clothes. He's still too thin, and he hasn't slept through the night since she left, but it's still an improvement. “You told me to give you time...” He doesn't have the strength left to hold it together any more, and feels himself starting to crack. “You can't stay here, Leia... I'm not strong enough...”

“That’s exactly why I am staying,” she says firmly. “Until you’re stronger, or the visions stop.” She sighs. “Or maybe you should just come back with me. Maybe it’s this place. Either way, I’m going to take care of you,” she finishes, wondering if she was always like this, or if this is a new mothering instinct.

Luke lets himself study her for the first time since she arrived; really study her. It feels in some way that all the life that has been zapped out of him is in her. She's gorgeous, glowing, positively radiant in a way he hasn't seen her before. She looks so warm and inviting, and he feels like a crippled old man in comparison. “I have to stop this rift... if it gets too much bigger... I'm afraid of what might come out.” The things he's seen have given him quite an imagination. “If you stay...” He knows what might happen between them, but he doesn't dare hope. She's got a plan to prevent it, he's sure of it.

Leia sighs. “Luke... I don’t know how to tell you this, and I don’t want you to think it’s why I came back, because it isn’t.” She sits beside him on his bed. “I don’t want you to worry. Everything’s completely fine, _everything_, and I don’t need anything from you. But... you should know.” She takes his hand and presses it to her middle. The tunic had hidden it from his eyes, but there’s no way to hide how it feels. Her belly is noticeably rounder than it was, firm and smooth, and glowing with the golden Force-light of her and Luke’s union.

It still takes Luke a few seconds. He's drinking in the euphoria of her hand against his, the feel of her warmth against his palm, and the rush of emotions touching her again brings him that it takes a few moments to register exactly what she's saying. But a thousand parallel Lukes have touched a thousand parallel Leias like this, and known immediately what it meant, and so now does he. His eyes widen. “Pregnant?” he gasps, horrified at first, then bewildered by the calm look in her eyes. 

It's not his, he realizes.

The relief and pain that accompany that thought are at war with each other. Then the golden-warmth of the pregnancy washes over him, and he knows he's mistaken. It is his. She's pregnant with his baby. “_Leia_,” he gasps, unsure if he should be happy or horrified, and if he has any right to either.

She nods, smiling at him with a sad sweetness. “I’m pregnant. It’s yours. And I don’t want you to worry about it, all right? We’re both fine.” She pushes his hair back gently. “I just had to let you know.”

His eyes lock onto hers, his hand feeling more intently, more specifically. It's different than the way it feels in the visions. It's real. He can feel the life force when he focuses, and he's in love with Leia a thousand times more in that moment than he was before. His heart is so full it feels like it will burst, and so heavy and burdened he might drown. He doesn't know what it means for them, for her, for their child. “We can do it,” he says, and he knows she'll know what he means. “I've seen it... all of the parallel versions of us... they're so happy together.”

“Luke,” Leia sighs. “Luke, this doesn’t change anything....” But she can feel that resolve wavering. He’s right, and a part of her knows it.

“Doesn't it?” He turns toward her, angling their bodies together, sliding his hand more firmly over her belly. “The Force wants this.” He doesn't know how he knows it; he just does. Perhaps he knows it because a thousand other Lukes have come to the same conclusion. “We were made for each other. Maybe even specifically for _this_.” He starts to very slowly rub her belly, his eyes never wavering from hers. “You kept it. You wanted a baby... you wanted it to be my baby. _Our_ baby.” He can feel her responding to his touch, and feels himself responding to her response. 

No one’s touched her since him. She and Han had spoken briefly a few times, and he doesn’t know about the baby; the two of them had decided to stay split up, a painful but, they both knew, correct choice. Luke’s hand on her stomach is the first anyone has appreciated her changing form except herself in private, and her center immediately starts to warm and open for him. “Luke....” she breathes in feeble protest, then gives in to the inevitable, nuzzling his face up, kissing him slowly, deeply.

Luke groans as they kiss, knowing this is the real Leia, the one that has been denying herself for him. He kisses her deeper, his hand lifting her tunic so his palm can brush the taut skin of her belly. She's pregnant with his baby. How could he have not known? He touches her in the way he knows she needs to be touched and appreciated, spreading his fingers out over the gentle curve, feeling the growth; the changes her body has already gone through because of him. He breaks the kiss to nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent, her taste, feeling the life flood back into him. “You must have had morning sickness without me to take care of you,” he says. “You're already three months along...” He gasps against her neck. “Say you'll stay with me, Leia... say you'll raise this baby--our baby--with me...”

She’d resolved to appear, take care of him and help him do whatever he needed to get him to a safer place, to tell him he was going to be a father, and to go back to her life. She’d promised she wasn’t going to kiss him, wasn’t going to tell him how much she loves him and aches for him. She wasn’t going to give into the longing that sometimes keeps her up at night no matter how much she tells herself the baby needs her to sleep. It was all folly. A lie she told herself. “Luke, I’ve been so alone,” she admits. “I should have come back as soon as I realized. No--I shouldn’t have ever left. I love you. Luke, I love you. We’ll be together. Somehow....” She helps him take off her clothes, so her can see all of her, every change, her soft skin so long untouched.

Luke trembles at the sight, at the disbelief, of seeing her again, of hearing her again, and of the majesty of what pregnancy has already done to her body. It's subtle, and he might not have noticed if they hadn't been together three months ago, but now it's unmistakable. The soft curve of her belly, the slight swell of her darkened nipples. He pulls his own clothes off before going to her, kissing her while his hands roam her body, both palms caressing her bump. His mouth trails down to her neck, her collar and shoulders, working his way down to her breasts, which he senses are sore from growth, but not so sore he can't latch on the way she needs him to and suckle as if he could draw milk.

“Oh, Luke,” she breathes, overcome, almost in disbelief. He seems to know exactly what she wants, all of the worship she’s been aching for. “Luke, look at what you’ve done to me....”

"I love you," he gasps, breaking the latch just long enough to change breasts, to attend to both. His hands on her belly finishes their exploration, moving down and down, until she parts her legs for him and lets him touch her wetness. He glances down at her body, swollen and ready, and can't believe it's happening. There are no visions fueling them now. This is purely their desire for each other. "I love you," he echoes again. "I love what you've let me do... to create life from my love..." He stares into her eyes. "You kept me inside you... you held as tightly as you could to me..." 

Leia’s face breaks into a bright grin. She hadn’t thought of it that way but she’s so glad he said it. “I did,” she agrees. “I was so confused when I found out, because my first reaction was just... such happiness. I thought I should feel upset. And I wasn’t.” She kisses him sweetly, moving her body under his. “I’m glad you’re happy, too.” Her breath hitches and she arches her back as his hand works on her. “You feel so good. I’ve been dying to be touched by you.”

“I've been dying to touch you.” He wants to touch all of her, to kiss all of her, to feel all of her. It makes him ache to know she's been wanting him and unable to have him; that she's gone through pregnancy sickness alone, without his care. “Don't leave me again,” he begs, biting her neck, pushing her soft hair aside. “We belong together.” His hands push her legs up so he can line himself up, but he doesn't push into her yet. He needs her so bad he feels almost sick from the want, but he resists. “I don't care what anyone else thinks. It's not wrong. This isn't wrong. We were made for each other. The Force crafted us, molded us to each other. We were made for _this_.” His hand falls heavy, intently on her belly.

A shiver of pleasure and happiness ripples through Leia. Never in her greatest fantasies had she imagined Luke would be this happy about her condition--but she still should have known, because she saw a thousand other Lukes this happy, rubbing their Leias’ bellies while they made love. “I won’t leave, ever,” she promises. “I didn’t understand. I understand now.” She lifts her hips, writhing with her need for him inside her, begging for him with her body.

Months of neglect had withered Luke's heart, but it bursts into full bloom at her words. He knows she's desperate in the heat of the moment, willing to tell him anything to get what she needs, but he knows it's true, too. They've suffered, and tasted glory, and suffered again. This is their inevitable truth. He kisses her as he finally opens her with his body, sinking into her tightness. He gasps from the sensation; how narrowed she is, and knows she has barely even touched herself in the time they've been apart. He feels the changes pregnancy has done to her body, and loves it, sinking deeper into her, feeling her open so eagerly for him. “Leia,” he moans, near tears from the relief of it. “Oh, my Leia...”

She whimpers in pleasure as he rocks his body into hers, and this time is even more beautiful and wonderful than the times three months ago, because this time there’s no spell of visions compelling them. This is something they’ve thought about for three months and decided was their only course of action. They could never love or need anyone as much as each other, and they’re together in it. This is right. Leia comes helplessly and beautifully from the thought, and Luke keeps making love to her through it, and she murmurs over and over that she loves him, that she’ll never leave, that she’s making him a daddy.

The tears spill down Luke's face as he loves her, fills her, kisses her, worships her. She doesn't last long, and neither does he. They both have so much pent up need and desire; they both need to release, to connect, to hold each other. He empties inside her, and feels her body clenching around him when he does, and it makes him gasp and rock against her harder. They're so in tune. Even without the visions fueling them, they know exactly what each other wants and needs. It feels so natural, so right, so bright. They really were made to fit together. 

He gathers her in his arms, holding her, rocking her, still buried inside her. One hand rubs her belly, caressing, loving, soothing. They are a tangle of limbs and love, connected, eternal, neverending. “You're pregnant,” he gasps again, still unable to believe it. “I'm going to be a father...”

Leia laughs out loud, happier than she’s ever been, then kisses his neck, whispering in his ear, “You’re going to be a father. You made me a mommy.”

They’re energized by their union, but neither has slept well in three months, so after they make love once more, they fall into an exhausted and contented sleep in each other’s arms, whole at last.  
\--

Leia comes back to bed late in the afternoon with a plate of food for the two of them, some tea, some water, and as they eat, Leia says, “What do we need to do? To make the visions stop?”

They slept only a few hours, but both of them feel like it's the best sleep of their lives. Luke eats crackers and cured meat from her hands, kissing her fingers as he does, then settles against her, keeping his body pressed against hers as they eat. “I've been meditating, allowing the visions to... to come to me. Like I'm stepping into a doorway. If I use the Force, I can... almost knit the opening closed. Like a wound... but the amount of… of darkness coming out, pouring into me is more than I can repair. The weaker I got, the harder it became. If you're with me...” He laughs, feeling light and powerful. He thinks he can do anything if she's with him.

“It’s a wound in the... fabric of the universe?” she asks, making sure she has it right. “That’s why we saw other versions of ourselves―because the other universes aren’t separated from ours in the Force, anymore?”

“I think so...”

“What could cause that?”

Luke sits up a bit, to deal with the more serious topic. “From what I've seen... the most common vision I keep getting, over and over, is the one where you die. I think... I think that's the cause. There's a universe where your death causes me... _Luke_. Specifically, _that_ Luke to just... lose it completely. He's so strong in the Force. And so filled with grief...” He lowers his eyes. It could happen to him, he realizes. If he lost Leia... but, he saw thousands happy, and only this one so destroyed…

Leia’s heart breaks for that forsaken man, and for her Luke, alone here, having to feel her dying over and over, while she’s been growing and blossoming in reality. “I love you,” she says, an edge of seriousness to her voice. It’s essential that he knows that, without any doubts. “You know... I’ll die in this universe eventually, too....”

“I know,” Luke says, turning to her, sliding a hand over her belly. “Maybe he's the reason Jedi didn't form attachments in the past... but we saw thousands and thousands of permutations. Different realities where we're together... and only one that has punched a hole through the universe. I don't think it's... _just_ that you died. It was something more.”

In spite of their serious conversation, his hand on her bare skin is starting to get her worked up again. “She was taken from him suddenly, somehow,” Leia says, because she knows Luke, and it’s starting to make sense to her. “If she’d died of old age, or even in some noble self-sacrifice, he would accept it, and let her go peacefully. This was something horrible.” Maybe childbirth, she thinks, then dismisses it. It doesn’t feel right, and she shouldn’t dwell on something like that in her condition.

“Something horrible,” Luke agrees. “Much more horrible than natural. Maybe more horrible than we can imagine.” They finish the food and Luke sets the tray down so he can cuddle with her more. “Tell me about this,” he says, tracing his fingers over her belly. He knows they have to talk about the visions too, but this is so much important to him now. “How did you find out? Did you know, when we were together that... that it might happen?”

Leia beams, cuddling as deep into his arms as she can. “No―it shouldn’t have been possible. And it took me embarrassingly long to figure it out, since I didn’t know.... Luke, I was using birth control. I shouldn’t be pregnant. It just happened, somehow.” She kisses him, then runs her hand over his over their child. “I’ve hardly told anyone. Which has been hard, because I’m so happy. I didn’t know I could feel this... powerful. And soft and sweet, at the same time. It’s incredible how good I feel.”

He kisses her, because he has to. Her joy is infectious, and fills him with so much hope and love. That she's so excited about being pregnant, and feels so good, makes him want to sing. The fact that she was using precautions and still got pregnant resonates deeply inside him, as well. He knows even the most powerful precautions aren't infallible, but he also knows she's never had any issues before. This was meant to be. The Force had been trying to make the connection all their lives, and as soon as it got the chance, it happened. It had to. “I'm so happy you're happy... that you're not upset, or conflicted. Did you tell Han? You went to a doctor?” She said everything is fine, so he assumes so, but he wants every detail. “Do... you know yet...” He isn't sure why it's so hard to put into words. “Is it a little girl, or...?”

“How did you know?” she asks, and she has to bury her head against him because she doesn’t know how to contain all her love for him and their daughter. “A little girl. Our little girl. I went to a doctor, have been going to one. Everything’s perfect. She’s big and strong and I’m even starting to feel her move, a little....”

There are tears in his eyes, and he doesn't even know why other than just so much overwhelming emotion. “She's perfect.” He untucks Leia's buried face so he can kiss her, soft and sweet, lingering. “Our little girl.” He moves Leia flat onto the bed, kissing her more, keeping one hand on her belly. What fools they were to deny themselves this connection for so long. He starts kissing her neck, worshiping her helplessly. “Maybe we're together in every universe,” he muses, inhaling her scent, positively thriving off their closeness, and the unbreakable bond between them now growing in her womb. “Maybe this always happens in some form...”

She knows it’s true, feels it in the core of her being. They always have children together, in every version of themselves. They’re always perfect. Even in the universes that aren’t perfect, their children are smart and strong and beautiful. “I should have come to you sooner,” she says again. She loves him so much, and it’s so strange to think that she ever rejected the bliss of their love, for such an abstract reason. He’s kissing down her neck, to her breasts, and she giggles. “Are you going to make love to me again, Luke...?”

“If you'll let me,” he murmurs, nuzzling, kissing, touching. “I don't think I'll ever have enough of you.” He rests his face lightly against her belly, ear to the soft bump, as if he could hear their child. He can't, but there's something supremely comforting about it all the same.

Leia runs her fingers through his hair. “Han doesn’t know. I didn’t want him to make it about him, when it was about me and you.” She shivers as he tickles her belly. “You’re so sweet. And it really turns me on that you’re so excited....”

Luke wants to share his excitement with everyone―all the friends had hasn't spoken to in years. Han and Lando, Wedge and the rest of the Rogue Squadron, but he realizes they can't. At least not now. They have to keep it a secret until they figure out how to deal with the truth of the matter. And that's something he doesn't have the energy to contemplate yet. He needs to make love to Leia, and regain his strength, and tackle this rift in the universe. Dealing with the fallout of impregnating his sister will come later.

They fall easily into each other, making love and dozing off again for another few hours. When they wake, it's dark out, but unlike in the past when darkness meant the return of the frightening visions, now Luke feels safe and comfortable.

“You're helping keep the dark visions away,” he says once they've cleaned up and put some light clothes on. “In the morning, I'd like to try to meditate together, to try and find the rift. With your strength, I'm sure I can close it... but it's... Leia, it's an awful feeling. I don't know how it might affect you.”

“You... you don’t think it would put the baby in danger, do you?” Leia asks, not very worried, but making sure that she has a feel for how Luke sees the situation.

“I don't know,” Luke says. “I don't think so, but... I just don't know. This isn't something I've ever dealt with before. There's no guidebook. The stress is immense, and if the stress affects you, it might affect her, too...”

Somehow, she isn’t afraid. “You’ll protect me. And her. We’ll all protect each other. We’re stronger together.”

Luke nods. It’s true. It feels right. He needed her―_them_―to do this thing. He needs the strength of her love, her support, the union of their souls that is their daughter, to be strong enough. “I'm afraid what might happen if we can't close the wound. I'm afraid what might come through. Together, we're strong enough, and we have to risk it, to protect our universe.”

They let it be for the time being. In that moment, the most important thing for them to do is to spend the rest of the night resting and loving each other, gathering their strength.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, hours after dawn, Luke and Leia finally dress fully and return to the meditation room. Leia can almost feel the first time they touched there, as if the passion of their union had lingered behind. Before they settle into an attempt to right whatever has gone wrong, she leans into Luke, kissing him for strength and reassurance, holding his hand as it trails off her belly. They situate themselves on pillows in perfect unison, then close their eyes to see what they can discover.

The darkness is immediately evident, all around them. They are candles burning in the center of a sea of black and only their light keeps the vast emptiness at bay. Even as they sit there, meditating, fingers of the void encroach on them, filtering in, touching them, taking over more and more.

“There,” Luke says, and he's speaking into Leia's mind directly, through the Force.

Against the blackness there is an even darker place. It's blacker than comprehension, void of more than just light, but of feeling, of life, of even hope. Luke shows the outline of the tear to Leia, through the Force. He has mapped out the edges, made his own measurements as he's tried to seal the tear—and it does look like a rip through the universe.

Nothing has worked, and as they look, it's clear that the rift is tearing, growing, increasing, deepening. It's a wound, and it is festering. 

“Can you feel him?” Luke asks.

Leia’s body on the meditation pillows does not move, but the image of her in Luke’s mind crumples in pain. “He’s you,” she says, guarding the treasure in her belly, shielding her daughter from the pain. “He’s you and whatever happened to him....” The image of her shakes her head and tries to use Luke to right herself. “Luke, it’s unbearable.”

It is unbearable, but they must bear it.

It's an endless maw of pain and grief. Luke knows the darkness is this universe’s Luke’s soul, collapsing in on itself like a black hole, devouring all of it. It's immense. So immense it's hard to even conceptualize what it is.

With Leia by his side, Luke can at least stand in the darkness and not be completely consumed by the anguish within.

“I want to talk to him,” Luke says. “I want to try and help him, whatever that may take... and I think you could call to him. I'm just not sure what he'd do if he sees you...”

He’s right, and while it’s her Luke Leia’s in love with, that love encompasses all Lukes and all possible Lukes. And she wants to do whatever she can to comfort him. Maybe knowing not every Leia is gone will help. “Luke!” she calls, hearing her voice but straining it through the Force, begging him to hear her. “Luke, I’m here!”

Nothing happens, but the darkness feels like it intensifies around them, as if it has drawn them in deeper, or perhaps somehow surrounded them even more. If there's an exit to this place, Luke feels like he's lost track of it. They aren't moving. They aren't crossing over into another universe. They're still sitting on their cushions in the temple, and yet Luke feels as though they've shifted.

The darkness continues to deepen, to grow heavier and thicker, and Luke realizes it's because the source is approaching. The sick man that has caused this horror has heard Leia and as he draws near he brings his toxic heart with him.

“Keep calling,” Luke encourages, pouring all of his strength into Leia.

Leia’s apparition covers her belly with both hands, now, and calls, “Luke, it’s Leia. I’m here to help. Let me help you. I love you.”

The darkness rolls over them. The visualization Luke has of Leia in their meditation realm becomes hazy as the darkness grows so dense it hides them. The pain is so intense Luke can feel it reverberating through the Force, can taste it sharp and bitter on his tongue, can feel it echoing in his heart. It's vaster than anything he has ever experienced.

And in the blackest part of the deepest darkness, stands a small, fair-haired man, with a face white as bone and eyes a haunting ice blue. He is the source, the cause, and as he staggers close his paperthin voice whispers, “Leia?”

Leia steps forward and catches him as he falls into her arms. He’s so thin—there’s almost nothing to him—but she holds him tight, rubbing his back and shoulders as if she could warm the skin of a ghost. “Luke, I’m here. Your Leia is gone, but I’m here. You tore a hole in the universe—that’s how I’m speaking to you. In my world, I’m fine. I’m fine, Luke. I’m pregnant; we’re having a little girl.”

It's nearly a skeleton that looks up into Leia's face. His eyes are so sunken it's hard to believe he's alive, but the blue in them is piercing and a chip of light catches them as he stares up at Leia.

“Leia,” he says again, his voice made of dry ash, full of disbelief. “Leia.” His hands clutch her, fingers digging into her arms with surprising strength. It takes a long time for her words to process. “You're not... real...”

She smooths back his thin, dirty hair as if it were silken gold and wonderful to her fingers, and it is, because she will always love him, every him. “I’m real. I’m not here, I’m in my world. But I’m real. The tear you created, it’s making the universes bleed into each other, Luke. My Luke and I can feel your pain. What happened?” She kisses his cheeks and tries to help him stand, but he leans on her heavily.

Luke—the real Luke, the one that's sitting on the cushion across from her—comes closer too. He kneels beside Leia and puts a hand on the thin version of himself in her arms. It helps him concentrate. It helps him give the other version of himself strength.

“They tricked me… Vader and the Emperor,” the broken, dying Luke says. “Again and again. They held us both captive, manipulating me, trying to turn me to the dark side, trying to force me to prove my loyalty to them. They used our love for each other to keep us in our place.” His eyes glance down at her, as if seeing her belly for the first time. “I convinced them to let you go… to protect the baby… but it was all a trick.” He draws a shuddering breath, and somehow the rest of the story pours of him, in images and thoughts and memories shared between them, through the Force, through the darkness.

The Battle of Hoth fails and Luke and Leia are captured, tortured, manipulated against each other, and falling in love despite it all. The Emperor and Vader letting Luke think he’s controlling them when all of the time they have had the upper hand. Luke learning the truth about himself, about his father and even eventually his sister. Luke fighting for his life to prove his loyalty to the Empire and biding his time to freedom. The Emperor planning a big attack against the dying rebellion to finally destroy them, an ultimate proof of Luke’s loyalty, while secretly letting Luke think he's going to cause the Emperor’s star destroyer to self-destruct. 

Leia being allowed to escape from their captivity and in her flight leading the Empire right to the last remaining rebel base. Luke's attack going off as the Emperor planned, not as Luke planned. The rebel base being destroyed, at Luke’s hand, instead of the Emperor’s star destroyer. Everything as the Emperor planned. 

Leia and their unborn child dying along with the last of the rebellion, because of Luke’s actions. The Emperor cackling as he pushes Luke closer and closer to the edge of darkness. The pain and guilt engulfing Luke as the feeling of his wife and sister and unborn daughter are snuffed out because he failed to protect them; because he thought he could outsmart the Emperor; because he pulled the trigger. Luke not turning, as the Emperor anticipated, but being swallowed by a grief so powerful it blasts through him. The Emperor’s star destroyer shattering, cracking like an egg, along with every star destroyer in the fleet imploding with just a single thought from Luke's devastated mind. 

The Emperor and Vader falling at his feet, crippled by his unending tidal waves of grief; the entire Empire crushed in a matter of seconds, and still it's not enough. Still Leia is gone, and nothing brings her back. Luke’s relentless grief punctures the fabric of the universe itself, tearing through a thousand different timelines and still it's not enough. 

“Luke, look at me,” Leia says, trembling from what she’s seen, but using her strength to draw herself and the dying Luke back from the visions. “Nothing will ever bring your Leia back, and I’m so sorry. But there are other Leias. Leias who are thriving. You can see that, now. Your pain gave you a window. Let me show you.”

She closes her eyes, and every vision she and her Luke have had pour out of her—the marriages and the children and the lovemaking, all of the worlds and starships and little houses and Jedi temples, and oceans and big cities they’ve loved each other in, together as teenagers or ancients. She shows him all of it. “I know she’s gone from you. But she’s not dead. So many of us are happy. And we love you. We all do.”

All the Luke in her arms can do is gasp.

He basks in the happiness, and the warmth, in the life that he has lost, but gets to see. He closes his eyes, letting it all wash over him, flooding through his corpse-like body.

For a moment, Luke thinks the broken, lost version of himself is going to die. He's going to let go at long last, surrounded by happy memories, and join into the Force where his Leia and his unborn baby are waiting. It's a sad, heartbreaking end, but not the worst. His pain will be over.

But in the flashing of the visions that Leia's showing him, he starts to see something else. The cracks run through _every_ universe. Being with Leia brought the ones together where Luke and Leia were lovers to the fore, but...

“You had a dream-vision when you first came to the temple,” Leia’s own Luke starts to say to her, his voice so strong compared to that of the broken Luke's. “Do you remember it?”

Leia looks in astonishment at her Luke, and she knows, suddenly, why he’s asking. “Of course I remember.”

She shows the weak Luke just a bit of the vision, because she doesn’t want to cause him any more anguish. Another Leia, alone in her grief, her own universe’s Luke lost much too young. “You could go to her,” Leia says. “That Leia is just as broken without Luke as you are without your Leia.”

It doesn't fix everything. It's Leia, but it's not _his_ Leia. He's not her Luke. But maybe it's enough…

“She needs you,” Luke says, helping his broken self to stand. “You need her.”

“How...” the other Luke whispers, grasping at Leia.

“Show him more,” Luke tells Leia. “Let him go to her...”

Luke isn’t sure how it will work. He doesn't understand how a man can move through the dimensions of parallel universes; how he can push through time and space to bridge the distance between them. He doesn't know how, but he knows it can happen. It _is_ happening. The universe is split asunder, and the brilliant, broken Jedi Master who did it can walk between them.

“Come on. I’ll help you. Try to stand.” Leia knows it’s not real—not physical, anyway, but if Luke can stand, and if he can walk, maybe they can find the way together. Together they stagger through the darkness, looking for lights, looking for features. “Call for her,” Leia says. “Like I called for you.”

“Leia!” the broken Luke calls, but his voice is too thin and doesn't carry.

With one hand on the shattered Luke and the other on Leia, the strong Luke draws the memory to him, shared by Leia. He focuses on it, and calls for the shattered Luke, projecting his own love for Leia into his voice. “Leia! I'm here! Leia, I love you!”

They move together through the void, through the oppressive darkness, until, at last and all at once stars begin piercing the black, and they can feel her presence.

“This isn’t real,” they hear from far away, and it’s Leia’s voice. “Luke’s dead. Whoever you are—how dare you prey on a grieving woman like this.”

“It is real,” the Leia holding two Lukes calls. “Your pain is allowing you to see between universes. And we’re bringing you a Luke who lost his Leia.”

“What the hell are you—” The grieving Leia steps into view, too thin, so young, her hair all cut off, dark circles under her eyes, her clothes severe and featureless and dirty. But she sees the three of them, and she falls to her knees.

They come together, all four of them, like droplets of water attracted together. They touch each other, and the strong ones take some of the grief from the weak ones, and give some of their strength to the weak and broken. When the shattered Luke and the lost Leia touch, they don't let go. It's not the same. It will never be the same, but it's _right_. Two lost, drifting souls, two halves of the same whole finding each other again.

As the strong Luke gets to his feet, he pulls his own Leia up with him, leaving the two broken ones together to heal each other. “They'll be all right now,” he says, and while he knows it won't be easy for them, he knows it will be true—eventually.

“Shouldn’t we stay a little longer?” Leia asks, watching the two still staring at each other in disbelief, still touching each other’s faces. “Make sure...?” But even as she says it, she feels the vision fading, and she and Luke are in the meditation room again, and night has already fallen.

With the Luke crossed over, in the arms of a Leia that needs him, the black maw trying to pour into their world has ebbed. With Leia's strength, Luke is able to patch up the tear between the universes, stitching the maw closed with the Force itself. The wound remains, raw and aching, but the danger is gone, and time and love will heal the rest. 

When he's finished, they find themselves sitting there still opposite each other, having not moved at all despite feeling they'd crossed the galaxy over. “Thank you,” he finally whispers.

Tears are in Leia’s eyes, and she feels weak and dazed, but she knows it’s over, and that it has been worth it. Luke doesn’t need to thank her--the two of them belong together, and the very fabric of reality apparently tears and mends by that rule. She just goes to him, kissing him, straddling his lap, holding him. “Is that it? No more visions?”

Luke kisses her back, once again unable to believe that she's his. That they're together. Even after everything they've seen, it's unbelievable. “I don't know.” He laughs, breathless, releasing all the tension in his body. “I hope so. Are you all right?” He kisses away the tears that manage to slip out.

She nods, feeling safe against him. She reaches in the Force to their daughter, and confirms she’s fine before nodding again. “We’re okay. Are you?”

“I'm fine.” He kisses her softly, stroking her face, her hair, her hips, drinking in her eyes, her scent, her presence in the Force, the growing glow in her belly. “More than fine.”  
\--

Over the next few months, the visions don’t return, and Leia stays, helping Luke restore the temple, getting him back to his old self—and both of them are happier than they’ve ever been, and the work goes quickly, and easily, powered by their love.

They write a hesitant letter to Han, telling him everything that’s happened, and his reply isn’t overwhelming, enthusiastic congratulations, but he’s genuinely glad to hear they’re well; that whatever had been so horribly wrong is fixed. He sends a silly gift for the baby—a fluffy bantha doll and a cozy blanket—but doesn’t say much on the matter. Leia understands. It’s a complicated subject. But the gesture means so much to her and Luke.

When the baby finally comes they agree to raise her at the temple, with her parents, and keep their sibling relationship a secret to all but Han. With her birth, the school officially opens with one infant student. Now that the visions are at rest, and with Leia's love there to give him strength, Luke is able to reach out and find the Force-sensitive prospective students he needs, and the temple begins to grow and grow. Their daughter very soon is not an only child, and she and her younger siblings are raised in peace, in a temple filled with happiness and love.

"We owe this to him, you know," Leia says dreamily one night, their three-year old asleep in her arms, their two-year-old in Luke’s and their son-to-be asleep in her belly, as she sits with Luke in the gardens after the students have all gone to bed. "I'm not saying that there's a silver lining to the pain he went through, or that you went through because of him, but I'm not sure how long it would have taken us to come to the realization on our own." She kisses their daughter's forehead. "I hope he and the other Leia were able to heal each other."

There's no way to know. 

The rift between their universe and the rest of them is sealed and mended now, but Luke knows. Their hearts were touched for just a moment, but it was enough. “They were,” he says, confidently, stroking their second daughter’s soft hair. “They're healing each other now...” He looks over at his gorgeous sister, his lover, and their beautiful eldest daughter asleep in her arms; the child that the Force insisted on creating. “We have them to thank for bringing us together... and they have us to thank for giving them their second chance... Nothing makes me happier than to know we're all loving each other, through all the universes.”

Leia smiles at him, then leans into him and kisses him. "There's a reason for everything, I suppose. Maybe the Force allowed the universe to be torn because it was the only way to get them together, and they were meant to be together. And we were meant to be together. And these little stars are proof of that." She shifts the bigger girl in her arms. "The Force always finds a way to make you, doesn't it?" she whispers, then says to Luke, "Help me up--let's go to bed."

Balancing their sleeping two-year-old on one hip Luke bends to take the child from Leia’s arms, then steadies Leia’s heavily pregnant body while she stands. With their daughters safely sleeping in their room, Luke and Leia return to their own and make love as they do every night, before falling into a deep, satisfied sleep in each other’s embrace.

If any dream visions come to them, they are visions of their own future, of children--their own, and their students. Simple contentment, for the rest of their days.

\-- The End --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Someday, we hope to write a third installment in our Riftverse featuring the "lost" Luke and Leia from this story.


End file.
